FOCUS
That tune in my head again - “Golliwogg's Cake-walk”.
Marching men and machines to the horizon.
Beams of sunlight flicker off the brass.
Dour politicians, inflated by loathing, drink-in their might - their generous expense.
Shrinking...
Turning down a side street,
Where cafés, ranged empty like theatres in mourning, await -
Their lone monochrome waiters humming, tapping feet.
Eyes follow me as I am quietly detained.
Collapsing in again...
Looking across my cell: Six feet.
A chink of tortured light arrives from nowhere.
Same year, same concrete.
Same Nile Delta stain weeping down the ghost-graffitied wall.
Colin Morgan
whew...that last stanza...trapped in a cell with just a bit of light...esp in light of the corruption in the first stanza...def a bit of story i would love to hear to fill in the spaces....
ReplyDeletethis would be my worst nightmare.... kept prisoner in a little cell...heck... and you give us just enough hints to get our fantasy going...the nile delta stain...the side street walk...
ReplyDeleteI always wonder if it's the right persons occupying the cells or if the worst crooks are walking free... I really like how you describe the creepyness of the cell
ReplyDeleteGreat storytelling !
ReplyDeleteThe poem marches to its own cadence. I really like reading about the experience. More importantly, the piece let me feel like I was in the band.
ReplyDeleteThat last stanza packs quite a powerful punch.
ReplyDeleteThis is very good Colin I like the angle you have taken. Well done.
ReplyDeleteWould love to find out more about this story - it draws me in. You recreate atmosphere very well with just a few well-chosen words 'theatres in mourning', 'same year, same concrete'.
ReplyDeleteI felt the suffocation of breath & lungs as if someone threw me down the dark & morbid cell ~ "Same year, same concrete" ~ Really well done ~
ReplyDeleteyes, there is a collapsing in, as the verses descend. ~
ReplyDelete